


Personal Justice

by towards



Category: DRAMAtical Murder
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-22
Updated: 2014-01-22
Packaged: 2018-01-09 15:41:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1147741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/towards/pseuds/towards
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Justice is a cold mistress.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Personal Justice

After a valiant struggle, he must have succumbed to their inhuman strength and lawless ways. He is a captive. That’s the only explanation that Akushima can think of when he awakens in an unfamiliar place, hurting all over with nothing to show for it. The pursuit of justice was a dangerous one, this might be it.

He was pretty sure it was it back there. It could be “it” at any moment, really.

Though he’d always assumed that captivity would have been more along the lines of tied-up-in-a-cell and less resting-on-a-couch-in-the-corner. It must be a trap or… or something. Perhaps it was those two strange yakuza, those two were always too nosy and too bizarre to ignore. This definitely wasn’t a Scratch hideout, either - he’d seen enough raids on those to know that they tended to live in utter squalor. This was… domestic. Very neat, very well kept. And very familiar, for some reason. He’s not thinking about that as he tries to roll over and sit up.

His injuries had been tended to with basic first aid, not all of them were even covered with actual bandages. He glances down at his arms, a little surprised to see a plain blue handkerchief tied around his hand. All of this was very… He couldn’t put his finger on it, but it reminded him of something. Something he was certain was impossible, given his circumstances.

Something moves. Akushima stiffens, reaching for a weapon that isn’t there. Shit, this is really bad. What had even happened? The most he remembered was… well, entering the Jail without backup to ensure the defeat of the enemies of justice.

"Are you awake?"

The voice is familiar. The second he hears it, realization dawns.

This is the basement of Heibon.

He brings his hands to his head slowly, rubbing his temples. What happened… Platnium Jail, how Heibon? Something wasn’t adding up. He’d been chasing down those terrorists, there was no way that…

"I’m so glad… Aoba-kun was worried that you wouldn’t wake up."

 _Aoba_.

Akushima’s off of the couch in an instant, ready to run for the station. Even if his fellow officers didn’t care before, they’d certainly care now that he had undeniable proof that Scratch was more than a Rib gang of convicts. His injuries must be superficial if he can move like this, but everything just feels so heavy. He takes a clumsy step backwards, arms windmilling as his feet catch on the blankets.

"YOU’RE AIDING THEM!" Even without his megaphone, his voice booms in the tiny space. Haga cringes and _he_ cringes because the noise is doing nothing to help the headache. Still, an officer’s work is never done. "I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN THAT YOU WERE IN ON IT AS WELL!"

"Aaah… Akushima, please quiet down."

"SHUT UP YOU BASTARD. I’LL INFORM THE WORLD OF YOUR TERRIBLE DEEDS."

"Really, people are trying to sleep-"

"NOT ONE STEP CLOSER, BALDY."

The word had barely left his lips before the other man’s fist connects with his face. Akushima’s collapses back onto the couch, staring up in shock and clutching his cheek.

Haga smiles pleasantly as he rubs a hand over his knuckles.

"If you’d allow me to explain…" The gentle shopkeeper cracks his knuckles, silencing any further protests that might have come forth, "Aoba-kun saved you from certain death… Mm, no. That doesn’t really explain it all. Aoba-kun has saved us all from very grave danger. I’ll thank you to respect that."

"BUT," Akushima starts, finding the words dying on his lips at the look he’s given.

"I’m sure you’ll want to discuss the company he keeps. I can assure you," that hand comes forward again, he cringes in anticipation - but it’s only held out to help him up, "we can discuss that over tea. I’ve got something for your nerves."

\- - - -

It had been a number of years since he’d sat down here. He’s pretty sure the store hadn’t even existed then, Haga had worked elsewhere. Way, way back when things were still _bad_ but long before they’d become as hopeless and out of control as they are now. They’d sat like this nearly thirty years ago, Yoshie occasionally joining them, enjoying each other’s company.

He takes a grudging sip of his tea. It’s not coffee, it doesn’t give him the jolt of energy that he wants.

Who could say why things had changed. It was probably right around when the yakuza and the police force stopped warring with each other and became one cohesive unit - something he’d never been alright with. Whenever that had happened, he’d turned all his attention to trying to keep what lawfulness there was. It was one man’s war against the world, and sometimes things were more important than friendships or personal health.

"This tea tastes like shit," he mutters against the cup. Haga merely chuckles good naturedly in response, waiting for the more serious question that’s to follow. "So that little bastard was working for justice all along? With the company he kept?"

"That’s right."

He shakes his head.

If it weren’t for the things he’d seen within the Jail, he’d never have believed it. It was a really different world in there. Decency and lawfulness didn’t apply… with those seeds sewn so close to home, it was no wonder all of their youth had grown up so rotten.

"I can’t say I’ll miss that shitty eyesore," he says, grudgingly, bringing his hand up to his temple to massage it. "And the brat said that I’d be out?"

"He said he wasn’t expecting you to wake up for some time. If the hospital wasn’t full, you would have been there, but…"

"But in a mess like this, it’s just expected."

"Yes."

Good enough.

His head really hurts.

"This is going to be such a mess to clean up."

"We’re willing to help, you know. This is our city as well."

"It’s an officer’s job to uphold the peace. If a citizen interferes it’s just vigilantism! I should arrest those punks _and_ you for interfering with the natural law!"

Haga sets his cup down slowly, Akushima grinds his teeth. If he’s going to be hit, that’s fine. He’s taken beatings from the brutish yakuza while his skinny friend watched, and he’s gone toe to toe with the terrorist more times than he can count. Even if he’s come away bleeding and tired, he’s still taken a stand against their wrongful deeds. It’s…

It’s justice.

"And yet," Haga says, startling him out of his reprieve, "it would seem that a group of vigilantes accomplished what no one else could. They saved us all together, not by abiding by arbitrary rules."

"… That’s different."

"How so?"

"IT JUST IS!"

"Akushima, do not shout in my store."

"Stop being obtuse then, you dumb bastard!"

"It will take everyone in this city to rebuild it to how it was before all of this began. You know it and I know it. To restrict it to people who wear a badge - and a badge many of them wear for far less noble reasons than yourself - is just going to cripple us again."

There was logic in that.

He sulkily blows across the cup.

"More than that," Haga continues, "you already look as if you’re on deaths door. Do you think the strain of trying to change everything alone is something you can handle."

That’s not a question at all.

"It’s my job."

"Your job was never to kill yourself for your ideals, Akushima."

It was a different world when he’d made his ideals… It would be wrong to change them now, wouldn’t it? When they’d come this far, when there was still so much more to do. Involving citizens never ended well. Except it had. They were in a new world order because some punkass brat got involved. “… Then what do you propose, if you’re so WISE about these things.”

There’s something warm on his shoulder. Akushima turns, surprised to see Haga’s hand resting there in a comforting… almost pleading gesture.

"Let us help."

… it really was a nasty callback to all those years ago, wasn’t it? When things started to go bad, when relationships soured. When he stopped sleeping right, stopped eating right, stopped anything that could distract him from his fight. Hobbies, fandom, family… personal relationships. He looks away, gritting his teeth. It had ended in shouting before - actual shouting, the both of them yelling at the top of their lungs about how the other was being stupid and didn’t understand. It had ended in such sour terms that he hadn’t come back here, even though he walked by every single day. Avoiding each other had become so natural, he’d forgotten that they’d ever been close.

So he told himself.

"Tch…"

Haga’s hand squeezes his shoulder ever so gently. “I’m still here for you.”

"You shouldn’t be. I should be arresting you."

"Akushima."

"If you break the law like that again then I won’t hesitate," he says adamantly, but doesn’t move to shake him off or even shift away. "… But if you volunteer to assist the force, then there’s nothing I can do."

"I’ll sign up as soon as I find someone to mind the shop." The smile that crosses the other man’s face is warm and genuine, something he hasn’t seen in at least a decade. It’s… a painful feeling that it invokves. That warm is unfamiliar, he doesn’t know how to handle it so he turns away, certainly NOT showing any signs of being flustered in the least.

"If you step out of line than you’re off."

Something shifts there. The next few hours are spent quietly (or not so quietly, but the volume level is adjusted accordingly) reminiscing about the way things used to be, and the way they definitely would be again.

Haga keeps an arm around him for the rest of the night.


End file.
